


aden parker: human disaster

by sam_kom_trashkru



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, aden as spiderman, also starring - Freeform, and finn as thor (mentioned), anya as black widow, clarke and lexa are pining after each other but they arent saying anything, clarke as captain america, featuring:, indra as aunt may, it's an avengers au, jasper as hulk, lexa as iron man, lincoln as vision, monty as hawkeye, murphy as harry osborn, raven as falcon, special thanks to daddy kass for inspiring this with her edits, the blakes as the maximoff twins, tris as gwen stacey, wells as bucky (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 18:45:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8412553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sam_kom_trashkru/pseuds/sam_kom_trashkru
Summary: Saving the world, or at least Queens, was a lot more difficult when you had to worry about Algebra tests and whether or not the pretty girl who sat at the front of the room thought you smelled weird. 
or
Aden somehow spidey-swings his way into the most elite group of superheros on the planet.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Kass, [alyica](http://www.alyica.tumblr.com) for inspiring this au, and for her wonderful aesthetic edits that can be found in the shau tag [here](http://alyica.tumblr.com/tagged/shau).

Saving the world, or at least Queens, was a lot more difficult when you had to worry about Algebra tests and whether or not the pretty girl who sat at the front of the room thought you smelled weird. 

Not to mention the sleep schedule left  _ much  _ to be desired. 

Being a teenager was hard enough to begin with, what with puberty and voice cracks and getting shoved into lockers, but when you added being a superhero onto that, it got quite a bit more complicated. 

Especially when you never made it to first hour on time. 

The blonde haired boy stumbled slightly as his nimble feet touched the ground, taking a brief moment to pull his sneakers out of the backpack disposed in the bush outside of Midtown High, before pulling on jeans and a hoodie, not bothering with a shirt underneath. It was November, nobody would question it. 

He’d barely pushed the frames of his glasses up to the top of his nose before the bell signifying the start of a new day at hell―more commonly known as high school―and he saluted at his english teacher as he walked through the door. 

“As punctual as ever, I see, Mr. Parker,” she said dryly, and he winked at her.

“Not late this time, Mrs. Johnson,” he responded cheekily, “I’m right on time.”

“For once in your life, yes, you are, Mr. Parker,” she sighed, “go take a seat so I can start my class.” He smiled at her toothily once more, before pulling his hand through already dishevelled blonde locks and moving towards his designated seat at the back of the classroom. 

“If I didn’t know how utterly boring you were,” a voice drawled from besides him, “I’d think the reason you were always so late was because you were getting some. But because I  _ do  _ know you, I know that it’s probably because you’re being strung up on a locker somewhere.”

Oh if only he knew. 

“Flash Thompson’s got nothing on me, Murphy,” Aden told him matter-of-factly, and the other boy scoffed. 

“Right, and that’s the reason why you’re always so bruised up.” That was the closest to an admittance that he was worried about his best friend that Aden would ever get. “You shouldn’t let you push you all over the place, Parker.”

“I’ll just get better at dodging, then,” Aden quipped. 

“Mr. Parker, Mr. Osborn, is there something you’d like to share with us?”

“No Mrs. Johnston,” they responded in unison, and the older woman narrowed her hawk-like gaze before pursing her lips. 

“Do be quiet, then, I have a class to run.”

Murphy muttered something under his breath that Aden shouldn’t have been able to hear, but knew to be derogatory and disgruntled, but Aden’s attention was fixated at the blonde in the front of the room, who’d looked over her shoulder with a look of utmost disapproval.

From the back of the room, he could still hear her mutter “ _ Idiots”  _ under her breath in that soft voice of hers, and even though she’d just insulted him, he couldn’t help but swoon at the mere fact that she knew he existed. 

“If you could  _ stop  _ drooling over Stacey, that’d be great,” Murphy shuddered, “you’re creeping even  _ me  _ out, and that’s saying something.”

“I’m not drooling,” Aden defended weakly, unable to prevent the blush rising on his neck all the way to his ears, “she’s just pretty, is all.”

“Yeah, and I’m the queen of England,” Murphy snarked, not bothering to even pull out his copy of Romeo and Juliet when their teacher instructed them too, “face it, Parker, you’ve been pining after her since the school year started, you’d have to be blind to miss it.”

“You’re full of shit, you know that?” Aden grumbled, and Murphy just rolled his eyes at him.

“Ok Romeo, go be a good boy and do your homework like a Montague would.”

Asshole best friend aside, high school wasn’t all that bad. 

Aden was at the top of his classes, somehow managed to get his homework done on time, and, with the friendship with someone with as important of a name as  _ Osborn _ , schoolboy bullies like Flash Thompson didn’t target him  _ too  _ often. 

When the bell ending first period rang, Aden and Murphy stood up in unison, and quickly made their way out, books in hand. 

“Listen, if my dad caused as much of a public stir as Lexa Stark did all the time, Oscorp would be raking in sales. So we just have to engineer a superhero or some shit like Stark’s flying tin can or maybe the new spider dude…  _ oh,  _ look who it is, Aden, your favorite.”

The two boys jolted to a halt as their faces were invaded by an annoyed looking Tris Stacey. 

“Aden, Jonathan,” she greeted brusquely, and Murphy bristled at the use of his first name. The only other person who called that was his father, who Aden knew the boy hated dearly. 

“What can we do for you,” Murphy drawled, blue eyes narrowed, “if you needed help wrenching that stick out of your ass, I’m afraid I can’t help with that. Friend code, and all.” Aden gawked at his friend, and Tris tastefully chose to ignore the crass comment. 

“You really shouldn’t be so disruptive in class,” she told them seriously, “this is an institution of learning, not messing around.”

“Oh really?” Murphy drawled. “I could’ve been sure this was the circus.”

Aden was sure he would have fared better in a circus than in the bustling halls of Midtown, especially at that exact moment. 

“Thanks, Stacey, I’ll be sure we work on that,” Aden said hurriedly, hoping to escape the conversation as quickly as possible, and the girl pursed her lips in his direction. 

“I’d have expected better of you, especially, Parker,” she tsked, “as number two in our class, after all.”

“Number two?” he exclaimed softly, eyes narrowing. “I thought I was number one?”

“Nope,” Tris smirked, smugness oozing from her tone, “you’ll have to work a little harder if you even want a chance at it, Parker.” His eyes narrowed and a soft smile worked its way onto his face. Oh it was  _ on _ .

“Now that you’ve had your nerdgasm,” Murphy interrupted, “I have another class to sleep through. Aden, you coming?” Without even waiting for a response, Murphy tugged at the arm of his friend, pulling him away from the confrontational spitfire that was the police chief’s daughter. 

“God, you nerds are so…  _ nerdy _ ,” he shuddered, “it’s a wonder I’m even friends with you.”

“I’m just the best,” Aden grinned widely, and Murphy rolled his eyes. 

“ _ Sure _ , Parker, sure.”

For the most part, it felt that Aden Parker and Spiderman were two completely different people. 

When he was Spiderman, swinging through New York like a ninja and fighting crime, it was hard to remember that, for the majority of his days, he was a scrawny science geek who didn’t get enough sleep and who got shoved into his own locker more often than the majority of high school students worldwide. 

Up in the sky, with the breeze rushing past his head, and his body twisting through the air like a seasoned acrobat, that was where he belonged. He couldn’t help but feel that, accident or not, he’d been made for this. This was his  _ destiny _ , or whatever.

Now the little guy could help the other little guys out. 

But not before eating. 

He was perched atop a set of apartment buildings, half-eaten burger in one hand, earphones stuck in his ears as he hummed along to the tune of the song. While New York was filled to the brim with criminals and frankly a bit disgusting, the skyline was still beautiful, and he found himself listing off the names of the buildings he recognized in the distance, the main attraction being the rather magnificent Stark Tower (he’d never admit to Murphy that he thought it looked better than the Oscorp tower). 

Finishing up his burger in a few more bites, Aden decided that today was the day he’d get a closer look at the building. 

Swinging on his webs through the construction zones and skyscrapers, Aden quickly made his way over, landing on the clear glass that made up the walls of most of the building softly, clinging like, well, a spider. 

Crawling up and around it was easy enough, and Peter kept a keen lookout for anyone moving within the building. He caught a glimpse of blonde hair, and saw a young man and a woman hanging upside-down off of a couch playing video games, though the angle was awkward and he couldn’t make out their faces. 

He’d seen no sign, however, of the one person he’d most wanted to see from the building, Lexa Woods. 

The woman was a genius, and he’d admired her work from afar for as long as he remembered. And now, since they were sort of superhero pals, he’d hoped to be able to actually meet her in person. 

No such luck.

Or, so he thought.

“...do I need to call the exterminator?” Aden almost jumped out of his skin at the voice as he startled, and he turned to see none other than Iron Man (Iron Woman? The press had been pretty sexist when they came up with the name, figuring a superhero  _ had  _ to be a guy). In hindsight, he should have heard the not-so-soft thrum of the repulsor engines approaching him, but Aden had been too caught up in his trying-to-find-Iron-Man endeavors to actually notice the woman sneaking up on him. 

“Oh, um, sorry Mr. uh Mrs. Iron Man sir, ma’am?” he prattled off quickly, as awestruck as a comic book nerd at Comic-con. 

“Oh my god you’re a twelve year old. There is a twelve year old spider boy on my tower.”

“Spiderman,” Aden protested weakly, “and I’m fifteen.”

“So what you’re saying is you’re twelve.” Masked red-and-blue stared down armored red-and-gold, and the two of them said nothing for a few long minutes. 

“Regardless of age, I don’t like people climbing all over my things,” Lexa accused, and before he could really comprehend what was happening, Aden was being lifted by his ankle―which wasn’t comfortable at  _ all _ ―and hanging upside-down in the sky. 

“Aw, c’mon, I was just swinging by!”

“You and I are going to have a little talk about personal space, pal, because I’m not sure if that’s something they teach you in kindergarten…”

* * *

 

Clarke stretched as she stood up from her seat, where she’d been busy sketching away images of times locked away in the deep recesses of her brain. Of a scrawny blonde girl and a grinning, pearly-toothed boy who was always at her side. Of a british commander and a smirking, rich businessman. 

Of cold. 

She was thankful, truly, that Lexa had opened her home to herself and the other Avengers. She wasn’t sure how she would’ve managed on her own after so long in the ice, with so many memories to deal with and sift through. The drawing helped, etching memories and hopes and dreams into paper until her fingers ached, and her room in Stark Tower was stocked full of art supplies, courtesy of her gracious host. Piles upon piles of filled sketchbooks littered the tower, but everyone knew not to touch them without Clarke’s express permission. 

Touching Clarke’s art without asking was just as bad as hiding the poptarts from Finn, whenever he was around.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spied something that she’d never thought she’d ever see. 

_ Is that someone in a red-and-blue unitard scaling the tower? The 21st century is weird.  _

She sighed and cracked her neck, before walking in the direction of the lab, bare feet making the softest of impressions on the floor. 

“Someone call the Smithsonian,” a familiar voice chuckled, “we’ve got a fossil on the run.”

“That joke wasn’t funny the first time you said it, Anya,” Clarke sighed as she continued walking, not bothering to look to her side as the ex-soviet fell into step with her, “besides, like you’re one to talk. You’re almost as old as I am.”

“I don’t look it, though,” Anya responded flippantly, “you should really try yoga, Cap, or maybe pilates. I hear it does wonders.”

“I think I’ll stick to running,” Clarke responded dryly, “gotta keep Raven on her toes.”

“And traumatize the poor girl even more?” Anya scoffed. “I swear she says ‘ _ on your left’ _ in her sleep, Griffin, that’s just cruel.” Clarke laughed softly, but didn’t say anything else, content to just walk with the assassin, who split ways to head towards the kitchen while Clarke pressed onward. 

She saw Lexa slumped over in her desk, mouth ajar as she snoozed atop a pile of crumpled up blueprints, several half-consumed mugs of coffee surrounding her in a semicircle. 

Clarke sighed, but stayed quiet, knowing how little sleep the genius got. The other woman spent all her waking hours either in her lab or around the city, and Clarke knew that she avoided sleep to avoid the nightmares. 

“How long has she been out?” she murmured to the only other person in the lab, who was busying himself with a few vials of volatile looking chemicals Clarke didn’t want to be within ten yards of. 

“About an hour, surprisingly,” Jasper chuckled, pressing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he moved around silently, “I think that’s the longest I’ve ever seen her nap. What’s up, Cap?” 

“There’s a human spider climbing the tower,” she responded matter-of-factly, and it was a testament to how odd their lives had become that Jasper didn’t even question the validity of her statement. “I figured Lexa would want to know, considering it’s her tower, and all.”

“Our tower,” Lexa muttered, roused by the sound of Clarke’s voice. She blinked a few times, almost as if she’d forgotten where she was, before downing the remnants of one cold mug of coffee in one quick gulp. 

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Clarke said softly as Lexa winced against the light, “how’s your liver holding up, champ?”

“Don’t hate on my rampant alcoholism just because you can’t get drunk,” Lexa yawned, and Clarke hid a grin at the other girl’s words, “what brings you down to the lab on this fine day, capsicle?” Lexa and Anya had made it their goal in life to come up with as many nicknames for Clarke as possible, and the blonde found it secretly amusing. 

“There’s a human spider climbing the tower,” she repeated, and Lexa stared at her for a long moment, though Clarke wondered if it was because of her statement or the fact that Lexa just liked to stare at Clarke. 

Lexa huffed, but got up from her spot all the same, wincing at the crick in her neck. 

“Why do I always have to play janitor,” she groaned, “I didn’t graduate top of my class at MIT for this, you know?”

Clarke laughed and rolled her eyes.

“Go get the spider, Lex, because I won’t be.”

“Why the fuck not?” Lexa whined, and Clarke, without even looking up from the paper Jasper had pushed towards her, quickly responded:

“Language.”

Lexa gawked, eye twitching, and Jasper couldn’t contain a soft smile. 

“Did you just―”

“Lexa if you aren’t out of this room in five seconds I’m going to dropkick you outside of it myself,” Clarke threatened, smirking as she heard the multibillionaire mutter under her breath and storm out of the room, calling for one of her suits as she left. 

“You’ve sure whipped her into shape,” Jasper mentioned as Clarke made to move outside to follow the other woman. 

“Are we talking about the same person?” Clarke scoffed. “Alexandria Stark-Woods? Whipped into shape? Not in a million years, Jordan, not in a million years.”

She took her time walking back to the common area, and stumbled across Monty and Raven in the middle of a heated game of Mario Kart, bickering like children. It was nice to see them so relaxed, especially what with how much the entirety of their little  _ avenging  _ crew had gone through so much. 

“What’s up Griff?” Raven asked, eyes peeled to the tv monitor. 

“Isn’t staying upside-down for too long bad for you?” she asked, obviously amused, and Monty scoffed. 

“Please, Cap, it fuels your dexterity. I’m kicking Feathers’ ass right now on rainbow road, proves that hawks are better than falcons any day.”

“Falcons are faster than hawks!”

“Oh yeah? Then how come I’m in first place and you’re in eleventh?” Clarke shook her head exasperatedly, rolling her eyes at their antics. 

“Did either of you see our little spider friend climbing the tower earlier?”

“Shut up Clarke I have to beat this smug bastard.”

“Language,” Clarke sighed, knowing full well it was a lost battle.

“Is it one of the Professor’s kids?” Monty asked, attention still fixated ahead of him. 

“Not that I know of,” Clarke told him, “I don’t know of any of Xavier’s kids who run around in a red and blue unitard. His kids usually wear the standard X uniforms.”

The two of them made noncommittal noises, but neither seemed interested in anything that wasn’t their game, so Clarke sighed and left the room, knowing that the two of them would be useless until Raven either attacked Monty or threw her controller at the monitor. 

Clarke wandered through the halls for a few more moments, and then found herself face-to-face with none other than Lexa. 

“You didn’t throw them off the tower, did you?” Clarke asked, and Lexa scoffed. 

“Oh come on, Cap, do you really think I’d throw someone off the tower?” After a long pause, Lexa grumbled and shook her head. “No, kid’s waiting in the common area.”

“You left them  _ alone _ ?”

“Hey, he’ll be fine for a minute or two,” Lexa defended, “he seemed eager, so I figured I’d get you to see what to do with him.” Clarke fought the urge to roll her temples, and strode past Lexa and into the common room, where she saw the small, lithe figure in the red and blue unitard pacing, and her heightened sense allowed her to hear his muttering. 

“Alright, Aden, be cool you got this. Calm, cool, collected. You’re just another superhero in a room of superheroes. No big deal. You’ve got this.”

She cleared her throat and he turned towards her quickly. 

“Oh my god, you’re Captain America,” he exhaled shakily, before extending a hand, I’m Ad―I mean, I’m Spiderman. Yeah. That’s me.” Clarke chuckled and accepted the offered hand. 

“Pleasure to meet you, young man,” she smiled, “I like your color scheme.” Though Clarke couldn’t see the boy’s face, she was sure she could practically  _ feel  _ the radiance of his smile beneath the mask. 

“Thanks! Red and blue are my favorite colors, and I figured they’d be a cool combo together…” his rambling was endearing, in Clarke’s opinion, but Lexa looked puzzled. 

“What were you doing on my tower?” she cut in suddenly, halting the boy’s rant about the color wheel and which colors did and didn’t compliment one another. 

“Huh? Oh.” He rubbed his neck sheepishly. “I just thought I’d drop by. Y’know, being a fellow superhero and all.” Clarke had to admire his enthusiasm. 

“You’re barely old enough to be in high school,” Lexa scoffed. 

“I am too!” he shot back. “I’m a freshman at Mid― _ nothing _ , nowhere. What’s school.” Clarke actually laughed at that, and clapped the boy on the shoulder. 

“You’ve got to work on maintaining your secret identity,  _ Aden _ ,” she stressed, and, at his confused utterance, she pointed at her ears, “you aren’t the only one here with heightened senses.”

“Friday,” Lexa called up, “give me a nice wide view, will you?”

At the command, dozens of holograms popped up around Lexa, and Clarke found herself in awe of the technology, no matter how many times she saw it in use. There were videos of Aden swinging through the skies, some headlines from the  _ Daily Bugle  _ in extremely negative tones, and much to the boy besides her’s horror, Indra Parker’s facebook feed, including a picture of a grinning blonde boy next to a building with the words MIDTOWN HIGH SCHOOL framing the entrance in big, block letters. 

“You know,” Lexa continued, sifting through a few of the videos, “I’ve seen your work, bugboy. It’s a bit juvenile, but you’re looking down the right path. Could use some guidance, though.” 

Aden perked up at the same time Clarke frowned. 

“You mean like train with you?” His voice cracked in the middle of his statement, again highlighting just how  _ young  _ he was.

“Lexa,” Clarke cut in somberly, “you can’t mean that. He’s a kid.”

“I can do it, Captain Griffin,” he assured her quickly, “you’ll see.”

“He’s going to keep doing it with or without training, Cap,” Lexa pointed out, “we might as well make sure he does it right.” 

“C’mon, Cap, please?” Aden pleaded. “I’ll be the best trainee you’ve ever had, swear it.”

Clarke rubbed her temples, trying her best to fight the quickly rising headache. Lexa never did make things simple for her. 

“Lose the mask,” Clarke said after a moment, “I want you to look me in the eye and promise me something.”

“Anything,” Aden agreed, quickly pulling the mask over his head. Clarke could hear Lexa inhale slightly upon seeing, firsthand, how boyish he looked. While his face structure was angular, and eyes serious, there was an aura of youth that couldn’t be masked, evident in the hairless expanse of his jaw and the smoothness of his skin. 

“Promise me that you’ll listen to us,” Clarke said, “if we think something’s too much for you, you go home, got it?”

“Aye aye cap’n,” Aden grinned, “I promise.”

Clarke shared a look with Lexa before nodding. 

“We’ll get in contact,” she told him, “go before I change my mind.”

“You won’t regret it!” he swore, pulling on his mask once more. “See ya later!” In a flash, he was vaulting out of the open balcony, and Clarke felt her heart stop in her chest for a moment at the sight of him free falling, before one of his webs caught hold of a crane and he swung out through the bustling streets of New York. 

“You really think he’s gonna listen to you?” Lexa asked after a moment. 

“Of course not,” Clarke grumbled, “he’s from Queens. And he reminds me of you too much, which is why you’ll be in charge of him.”

“Like, in the awesome way? Wait, hold up, why do  _ I  _ have to babysit?”

“You brought him in,” Clarke called over her shoulder, already walking away, “you get to deal with him.”

“Wait, capsicle, I didn’t sign up for this, I’m not good with kids… Griffin are you even listening? I know you can hear me, you’ve got super hearing for fucks sake.” 

Clarke smiled softly, but didn’t turn around.

“Language.”

“Oh, fuck you Cap.”

* * *

 

Saving the world, or at least Queens, was a lot easier when you had the world’s greatest heroes showing you the ropes. 

The sleep schedule still wasn’t great, though. 

Neither was having your aunt stare deeply into your soul every time you were late for dinner, as though she could see your deepest darkest secrets. 

“Don’t you look like the picture of beauty,” Murphy commented as Aden slumped against his locker after a long day of pop quizzes and boring teachers, “tell me, are those bags under your eyes designer?”

“Yeah, thanks for noticing,” Aden yawned, “chanel.”

“Not getting enough sleep?” Murphy tsked. “Little Miss Perfect keeping you up?” 

In his sleep-addled state, it took Aden a few moments to get the innuendo, but when he did he shoved Murphy’s shoulder, muttering under his breath about stupid best friends. 

“You been workin out, Parker? That actually almost hurt.”

“Oh for sure,” Aden responded, “it’s all the textbooks, they’ve been really working out my arms.”

“Uhuh,  _ sure, _ ” Murphy agreed, “the textbooks.” Aden rolled his eyes. 

“C’mon dumbass, Aunt Indra’s making fish tacos.”

“What are we waiting for then? Let’s go.”

The walk home from Midtown was a lot more peaceful whenever he had Murphy with him (which wasn’t often, because his friend was often picked up by the prickly Osborn chauffeur), and his pockets remained filled and his knees remained unscraped (he’d gotten into the habit of hiding his money in his socks to avoid Flash Thompson’s usual pat-down, not even bullies wanted to smell the feet of teenage boys).  

Aden whistled to himself as he unlocked the front door, only to have it wrenched open before he could finish turning the key, his aunt looking at him in a way that could never mean anything good.

“Aden,” she greeted, “John.” Indra was one of the few people that could get away with calling Murphy by his first name, as the boy had frequented her home since he and Aden were little kids. “We have a visitor.”

“Other than Murphy?” Aden frowned. “We weren’t expecting anyone, though.”

“No,” Indra agreed icily, “we weren’t.”

“So who on earth...” Aden trailed off as he spotted a familiar smirking, suited woman leaning on the hallway wall as though she owned it, and his jaw dropped. “Le― _ uh _ , Ms. Stark? What are you doing here?”

“It’s taco tuesday, why wouldn’t I be here?” Lexa drawled, mirth evident in her voice. 

“Aden,” Murphy deadpanned, “there’s a Stark in your house.”

“And an Osborn?” Lexa gasped, clutching at her heart. “Fraternizing with the enemy, young man? I’m wounded, truly, I am.”

“Uh, no offense, Ms. Stark,” Aden said as he walked in the house, past his aunt, “but why are you here?”

“Oh, I was just talking to your aunt about the internship position you won.”

“But I didn’t apply for any internsh―”

“Of course you didn’t,” Lexa scoffed, “if you applied you wouldn’t have gotten in. No, this internship was built specifically for young, entrepreneurial, scientific minds like yourself who have a relative fear of the spotlight. We’re going to cultivate your brilliance, prime you for a future in the industry. Make you the best...”

During the little impromptu speech, Aden realized that this was Lexa creating an excuse for Aden to be out of his aunt’s house so often, and he could have kissed her for her brilliance (though he didn’t think she’d appreciate it very much). 

“My Aden is a very bright boy,” Indra agreed, a hint of pride gleaming in her eyes, “top of his class.”

“Actually,” Murphy snarked, “he’s number two.”

“And your father already snagged Ms. Stacey, but I’ve the full belief that Mr. Parker here will more than exceed my expectations, isn’t that right, Aden? I can call you Aden, right?”

“Um, yeah,” Aden agreed, “I won’t let you down, um, ma’am.”

“I’m glad we’re in agreeance,” Lexa grinned, clapping her hands together, “so. Tacos?”

Needless to say, a dinner with an Osborn and a Stark in the same room wasn’t the most friendly event, regardless of the fact that one was a teenager and the other a fully grown adult who  _ acted  _ like a teenager most of the time. 

“I didn’t know you were friends with the Osborn gremlin,” Lexa frowned the next day as she pulled up to Midtown High, ignoring the gawking of the students as Aden stepped into her car. He waved to Murphy, who was entering his own car in a similar manner, and the other boy simply rolled his eyes. 

“Murphy’s not a gremlin,” Aden defended, “he’s my friend.”

“And here I thought  _ I  _ was your friend. I’m hurt, bug boy, I really am.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve known him longer,” Aden reasoned, “and you almost got me grounded.”

“Oh, the wonders of being a minor,” Lexa laughed, “you can go out and spend your nights saving the city but you come home to an aunt who can still dictate your bedtime. She does make  _ excellent _ fish tacos, though, if I do say so myself. Best I’ve had in a long time.”

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t barge in uninvited to my home next time,” Aden grumbled, “Aunt Indra’s a big fan of schedules and order, she doesn’t like surprises.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Lexa exclaimed, but at Aden’s pointed look, she relented. “Alright, alright, no more barging in uninvited. Jeez, kid, I thought you were gonna be fun like me, but instead you’re almost as much of a downer as capsicle.”

The nickname made Aden frown. 

“Does she know you call her that?”

“What, capsicle? Of course. She loves it.” Aden highly doubted that, but she knew by now not to question the billionaire, and instead remained silent. “We’re testing you out in the gym today, we’re going to refine your fighting style, and all. I can’t wait to see you up against Anya. Two spiders, one ring, who will survive?”

The thought of fighting against one of the most, if not  _ the  _ most, deadly assassins in the world was quite the daunting prospect, and Aden suddenly found himself wishing, for a brief moment, that he could be just a regular teenager whose biggest concerns were algebra tests and whether or not the pretty girl at the front of the room thought he smelled weird. 

But, pulling up to Stark Tower, he realized that he wouldn’t give up his powers even if he could. He had a responsibility, now, to be something bigger than what he was, to be the good guy who looked out for the little guys. 

“Alright, short stack, let’s see what you can do.”

“I’m still growing,” Aden huffed, “what’s your excuse?” Lexa raised an eyebrow at him, and Aden moved to apologize, realizing he’d just insulted the woman who was to be his mentor, but she cut him off before he could speak. 

“And he comes in swinging,” she chuckled, “maybe you’re more like me than I thought.” To Aden, this was the highest of compliments that he could’ve possibly received, but to the blonde woman waiting for them in the gym, it was a headache waiting to happen.

“This is a bad idea,” Clarke muttered as she paced on the balcony overlooking the gym floor.

“Awe, c’mon, cap, relax a little,” Lexa smirked, sliding up to her, “we all went through this when we first became a team.”

“Yes but we,” Clarke motioned towards the team, some of which were on the balcony with the two of them, and others on the floor, “had at least some professional training, and, not to mention, are fully grown adults.”

“Especially you,” Lexa laughed, “you’re practically a grandma,”

“And I could still pin you in about two seconds flat,” Clarke shot back, and Lexa bit the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from laughing at the hidden innuendo she knew Clarke wouldn’t catch. 

“We’ll see how he does against An,” Lexa said, “and then he can take a shot at the old lady. Hey, Jordan, you up for a few rounds?”

“Oh no,” the young man chuckled, running his hand through brown curls, “I think I’m good just watching.”

“Right,” Lexa agreed, “don’t want to mess up your zen.”

“Wouldn’t want to expose the kid to it so soon,” Jasper chuckled, and Clarke rolled her eyes at the two of them. 

“Right, yet we’re exposing him to Romanoff, that’s a great idea.”

“He’ll be fine,” Lexa brushed off, “besides, you’re a doctor, right, cap? You’ll be able to fix him up in a jiff.”

“I went through medical training before I went out in the field, if that’s what you mean,” Clarke sighed, “my parents were both field medics, but I was always the one getting hurt rather than the one fixing people.” She paused briefly and laughed. “Wells was usually the one to keep me out of trouble though.”

At the mention of the lost soldier, the conversation quelled, and Lexa turned her attention back to the floor, where Aden was standing around awkwardly, almost as though he was unsure of what to do with himself. 

“I have complete faith that he won’t let himself get smushed,” Lexa whispered, and, for some odd reason, Clarke actually found herself reassured, if only slightly, “scouts honor, cap.”

“You were never a Girl Scout,” Clarke quipped without looking away from the boy. 

“What? I’m a businesswoman, I would’ve sold the most cookies and you know it.”

“Mhmm, whatever you say Stark.”

After a few more moments, Anya finished stretching, and stood up, eyeing Aden rather menacingly, and Clarke didn’t need her heightened senses to hear him gulp. He’d be an idiot to not be afraid of the Widow, seeing as she was a trained, tested killer. 

But, surprisingly, it was Aden who made the first move. 

He lunged forward, and Anya gracefully moved out of the way, as though she was dancing, using her momentum to swing back and push Aden to the floor. He wasted no time in getting back up though, having sufficiently tested Anya’s reaction time to gauge his best plan of action. 

In a movement so quick even Clarke had a hard time catching it, the boy flung his wrist at the girl and the webbing he’d become so known for shot out and caught her wrist, but Anya wasn’t to be deterred. Using the connection to the boy to her advantage, she pulled him forward, launching herself so that her legs were wrapped around his shoulders, spinning his own webbing to get him in a chokehold. 

Clarke held her breath, but, much to her surprise, the boy was able to escape the Widow’s grip, twisting the both of them around and slamming to the floor with enough force to make Lexa wince, and the two separated upon impact. 

Having learned from his previous mistake, Aden shot his webbing at Anya’s foot, effectively gluing her to the floor, but if he thought she’d be defeated by the loss of a single leg and much of her movement, Aden was sorely mistaken. 

Clarke had watched Anya bring a Hydra agent to his knees while tied to a chair and armed with nothing more than a bobby pin, but Aden had no such experience with the seasoned killer. 

There was a sickening  _ pop _ , and Clarke and Lexa exchanged a wry glance as Aden squirmed. 

“Dude, did you just break your  _ ankle? _ That’s gross― _ whoa  _ you’re fast!”

For someone who’d just annoyed one of the most deadly people in the world, Aden sounded like he was having entirely too much fun. 

Their little sparring session lasted for a bit over half an hour, with Anya effectively strangling Aden with her legs, and he slammed his hand on the ground three times to signify his defeat. Other than the broken ankle, Anya’d escaped with no further injuries, but Aden had a broken clavicle and a rather nasty black eye, but still had a smile fixed firmly on his face. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he assured Clarke when she rushed up to him, “I heal quickly.”

“You fight alright, kid,” Anya told him appraisingly, “needs a lot of work, but not bad for a rookie.” From Anya, that was about the highest compliment you could receive, and Aden grinned at her when Clarke popped her ankle back into place. 

“How’d I do, Cap?” he chirped, brushing off her attempts to look at his eye. “Did I pass the test?”

“Well, you definitely have as much concern for your own health as Lexa does,” Clarke sighed, “you’ll fit in well here.” The giant, blinding smile on his face was  _ almost  _ enough to quell the bubbling guilt in Clarke’s chest at letting someone so young into the field. 

_ Almost _ .

* * *

 

If Aden had to pick which half of his life was more difficult, between being a part-time Avenger and a full-time teenager, he’d answer being a teenager without a second thought. At least while he was out avenging, he could clobber a few bad guys and swing through the sky like a skilled acrobat. When he was just Puny Parker, getting shoved into lockers and having his lunch money stolen, he couldn’t do anything about it. 

That, and something was wrong with Murphy. 

While the brooding heir to the Osborn fortune was usually disgruntled and snarky, there was something about him that was off, and Aden couldn’t figure out for the life of him what it was. 

Until he came to school one morning and saw a poorly concealed bruise on his best friend’s cheek. 

Unfortunately, Tris Stacey saw it first. 

“Osborn?” it was rare that Aden ever heard the girl speak with something other than contempt when addressing him or the other boy, and he knew from that first little question that things were going to go horribly. If there was anything Murphy hated, it was being pitied. “...what happened to your cheek?”

“Hm?” Murphy asked, feigning ignorance. 

“Your cheek,” Tris persisted, “it’s bruised. What happened?”

“None of your business,” Murphy shrugged off, “and I didn’t know you cared so much, Stacey.”

Aden and Tris exchanged a glance with one another. Nobody in their right mind would even  _ think  _ of touching the untouchable Osborn, except, of course… 

“My dad’s the police chief,” she said gently, “you should talk to someone, Jonathan.”

“Yeah?” he laughed humorlessly. “And what good will that do? I can see the headlines now, ‘ _ Police Chief Disgraced After Bringing False Claims Against Businessman Alexander Osborn’ _ , he’s got the best lawyers out of anyone, Stacey, you’re kidding yourself if you think anyone would be able to help.”

There was a pain in his eyes underneath the defiance, and Aden could practically hear the aching desperation underneath the sharp tone.

“At least let me show you how to cover it up properly, then,” Tris said after a moment, “you didn’t even get the right shade of concealer for your skintone.”

There was a poignant pause before Murphy nodded once, sharply. 

“Okay,” he agreed, “but don’t think this makes us friends, Stacey.”

As Aden Parker, he couldn’t do anything to help his best friend.

As Spiderman, however, he could.

“You’re sure he’s ready for this?” Clarke, as always, was concerned, blue eyes shining with poorly concealed unease, “he’s only been training with us a couple of months.”

“If the kid says he’s ready, he’s ready,” Lexa responded smoothly, “you can’t spend your entire life worrying, Cap, he’ll be fine.” 

Beneath his mask, Aden couldn’t really show the full extent of his gratitude, but he had the feeling that Lexa knew. 

After the fighting, with a deep slash in his suit and blood dripping down his chest, Lexa knew then too. 

Usually it was Clarke who cleaned him up after fights, but Lexa had stepped in, shooting the other woman a soft look that held a deeper meaning Aden couldn’t comprehend in his state of emotional distress, and it was the billionaire who gently wiped a wet cloth across his chest. 

“You know,” she said conversationally, “I didn’t know there was anyone who hated Alexander Osborn more than I did.” He looked up, baby blue eyes shining with anger that quelled upon meeting the cool expanse of forest green. 

“He’s sick,” Aden responded quietly, and both of them knew that he wasn’t referring to just the madness and the green villain he became.

“Maybe I’ve got more in common with your little friend than I thought,” Lexa said softly, “tell him he’s welcome to come by the tower anytime.”

The next morning, when Aden walked into Stark Tower (or rather, the Avenger’s Tower, as it was now being called), with a curious Tris and seemingly unimpressed Murphy trailing behind him, Lexa greeted them all with a smile and a wave before being whisked away by Ms. Potts to go do paperwork she’d most likely been avoiding. 

“This is where you intern?” Murphy drawled, looking around judgmentally. “I pity you, Parker, I really do.”

Aden could see his interest in some of the arc reactor technology though, though it was overshadowed almost entirely by Tris’s never-ending stream of questions. And, despite Murphy’s constant comparison of the tower to his own, he returned with Aden at least bi-weekly after school, under the claim that the food there was better.

(Aden, of course, knew his best friend better than that, but let the other boy believe that he was none the wiser.)

* * *

 

As time passed, Aden came to know the quirks of the little family that was the Avengers. 

He knew that Monty liked to hide up in the vents sometimes and just watch, until either Raven coaxed him to come down and play videogames or Anya asked him to spar with her in the gym. He knew Raven startled easily at loud noises and had problems with her leg sometimes that she brushed off with humor and quick smirks. He knew Anya fought to forget.

He knew that Octavia would wake up in the middle of the night some nights in a cold sweat, and quickly make her way over to her brother’s room, just to make sure he was there, that he was real, and that he was alive. He knew that Lincoln phased through walls sometimes, forgetting about the existence of doors, to check on her, and make sure she wasn’t haunted by her own demons. 

He knew that Lexa and Jasper worked themselves past the brink of exhaustion in the lab more often than could possibly be healthy, surrounded by mountains of half consumed mugs of coffee and plenty of discarded blueprints for projects that would never be completed. He knew Clarke would come in to check on them, replace notebooks with pillows and drape blankets over their shoulders. Some nights, he knew she’d gently lift Lexa out of the lab and place her in her own room.

And he knew Clarke drew. 

Aden also knew that he wasn’t supposed to look at Clarke’s drawings without her explicit permission, as it was an unspoken rule amongst the team. 

He hadn’t  _ meant  _ to look at them, it was an accident. 

Aden whistled to himself as he moved around on the common floor up near the top of the tower, looking for a place to complete his algebra homework in peace, and he paused when he saw an abandoned, open sketchbook resting on the coffee table. 

There was a sketch on the page facing him of a young girl, skinny and with scraped ankles, grinning toothily with her arm around a dark skinned boy with two missing teeth and a wide grin stretching across his face. Aden knew that the girl was Clarke, when she was younger, and his mind supplied the name of the boy from one of his trips to the Smithsonian. 

_ Wells Jaha. _

The famed fallen soldier of the Howling Commandos, who’d sacrificed his life for the betterment of his country. 

Aden had heard stories of his valor, seen first-hand accounts by none other than Peggy Carter on his character for as long as she’d known him, but he wondered what he had been like as a child, barely as tall as his scrawny friend, with missing teeth and scraped knees and a whole lot of fire. 

Fueled by his own curiosity, Aden, against his better logic, began to flip through the pages of the sketchbook, entranced by the detail and beauty of the drawings. He wondered to himself that, if Clarke hadn’t joined the war effort, she might have been an artist. He could hardly imagine the great Captain America holed up in an art studio somewhere, painting the day away. 

His hands stilled when he came across a section of the sketchbook dedicated to one person and one person only. 

Lexa. 

Her face was everywhere. 

Charcoal lines traced the sharp edges of her jawline, the stubborn set of her shoulders, the challenging curve of her eyes. She ran through the pages and sat languidly, a study of form unlike any Aden had seen in his life. But the drawing that struck him the most was one of the eccentric billionaire sleeping, looking so much more at peace than Aden had ever seen her, harsh lines softened in a time of extreme vulnerability. 

She was beautiful. 

“Hm.”

Aden turned sharply, guilty look plastered on his face, mouth open and ready to apologize, but the look that Clarke fixed him with silenced his words in his throat. 

“Don’t apologize if you don’t mean it, kid.”

Gently, Clarke removed the sketchbook from his possession, and he lowered his eyes somewhat in shame.

“I know I shouldn’t have looked,” he started, and Clarke rolled her eyes. 

“You shouldn’t have,” she agreed, “those are private. So, why did you?”

“I was curious.” It was a feeble excuse, he knew, but it was the only one he had. 

“Didn’t you ever hear that curiosity killed the cat?” she sighed, running a hand through her blonde hair, and Aden grinned up at her cheekily. 

“But satisfaction brought it back,” he quipped, and his words were rewarded by a small smile from the usually disapproving hero. 

“You really are too much like Lexa for your own good,” she chuckled with a shake of her head, before patting him on the shoulder fondly, “I’ll let it slide this time, kid, but don’t let me catch you with your hand in the cookie jar again, alright?”

“I won’t,” Aden promised as Clarke moved to walk away, “they really are beautiful, Cap, you could’ve made a career in art.”

“I could, couldn’t I have?” Clarke pondered to herself as she walked. “Would’ve made my life a lot more simple.” Just before she was out of the room, he plucked up the courage to ask a question. 

“Clarke?”

She paused, but didn’t turn. “Yes, Aden?”

“Why don’t you tell her?”

There was a long pause, and Aden wished he could see Clarke’s face, to perhaps see her reasoning spread across expressive cerulean eyes. 

“Sometimes, it’s better not to complicate things. You’ll understand one day.”

She walked out of the room without another word.

Aden wasn’t sure he wanted to understand. 

Saving the world, or at least Queens, was a lot more interesting when two of your mentors were in love with each other. 

And even more frustrating when neither of them would say anything. 

But, for that moment, at least, Avenging would be enough.

(Even though it sometimes made Aden late for Algebra tests.)

**Author's Note:**

> This may or may not be developed into an entire universe depending on my time and whether or not Kass returns my text messages. Much love <3


End file.
